


Vows

by imaginarybarista



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Marriage, Prompt Fill, Wedding, a tiny bit crack, a whole lot of au, and completely fiction, because of the cake, but it's all okay, but louis loves him anyway, harry becomes bridezilla, harry puts on a wedding dress, harry's colors are navy and dark red btw, planning, proposal, somewhat fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarybarista/pseuds/imaginarybarista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt fill that Louis proposes and it’s perfect, and Harry decides that he wants to plan the wedding himself.  Harry gets a little tense and sort of goes Bridezilla on everyone but Louis. Harry reaches a breaking point and puts on a wedding dress. Louis talks him out of it. They share a lot of sweet words and I made myself hungry for cake writing this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vows

**Author's Note:**

> So like I mentioned in the tags, this is all made up. For fun. Because I can. I sort of took the prompt and ran with it because I have no self control and it's not exactly how I imagined it? But that's fine. Enjoy! Let me know what you think, if you don't mind. *

The best night of Harry’s life takes place on December 24th. It’s the best for so many reasons and in a discreet brown notebook he keeps tucked into the bottom left desk journal, he makes a list. Harry’s got a habit of making lists. He runs them in his head; grocery lists, things to try out in the kitchen, things to try out in... other places, a list of things he wants to do before he’s 30. He’s got them on sticky notes by the front door, last minute reminder lists of things not to forget. He’s got lists of songs to buy and a list of bands to see live. 

This list is being written down by Harry, the boy who hasn’t stopped smiling for twelve hours, the boy who has just now found the time to write the list because he’s not celebrating.

Today is Christmas but it seems almost perfunctory for Harry to care about the date. What he truly cares about is Christmas 24 because what happened on the 24th is enough to have him looping letters over a page to preserve how he’s feeling now for the next lifetime. Because that’s what he can think about now. A lifetime... a lifetime with Louis.  
***

The first thing to make the list of why Christmas Eve was the best day ever would be... well, chronologically, the birthday sex in the morning. But the day just got better and better. Christmas holidays meant time off of work, family, and good food. The morning was just for Harry and Louis, the evening would mean family. It was lovely not having to get out of bed till eleven in the morning simply because laying down, muscles relaxed and loose, was easier and more enjoyable and the bed was just so warm and hard to leave.

He and Louis had spent the day together, and it felt different than normal. Harry wasn’t sure if it was because it was a holiday or Louis’ birthday or if it was simply because of what Louis knew would come but the two were sort of all over each other. Harry would rest his chin on Louis shoulder while standing behind him, Louis would brush his hand down Harry’s arm as he walked past, they held each other’s hand over breakfast, and they leaned into each other sharing a blanket watching It’s A Wonderful Life. The apartment smelled like pumpkin and spices because a candle had been burning, and the flat was mostly dim with just one light on and the tv. 

As James Stewart and his colleagues’ names appeared on the screen, Harry felt Louis’ cold foot rubbing against his ankle and Louis’ fingers slipping around his wrist. Harry, sitting with Louis against his shoulder, had blown air out, making Louis’ hair flutter and prompting him to turn around to look up Harry. “We should just stay home,” Louis murmured. “You’re toasty. Don’t wanna get off the couch.” His eyes shut as he tipped himself over, letting his head land in Harry’s lap. 

Harry had been tempted to just accept, stay on the sofa with Louis all night. Instead he had brushed his fingers through Louis’ hair and let himself smile. He bent down to kiss his boyfriend’s forehead and Louis had kept him there until Harry laughed and tugged them both upright. “Babe, think of your mum. Think of your sister’s. Think of the birthday pie you’re gonna get,” Harry said, attempting to sound persuasive. He let his voice drop as he leaned into Lou’s ear. “When we get home, I’ll give you a present,” allowing himself to sound like a bad pornstar.

Louis had just laughed and pushed Harry away before lifting the blanket and getting up. His sweater lifted just a bit as he lifted his arms up, stretching, and he laughed. “You’re gonna make me think about said present all through dinner now,” he frowned, pouting. 

“Just put on your tacky sweater and let’s go,” Harry replied. “There will be Christmas wine. I’m willing to say the food will be good. You’ll be showered with birthday wishes.” Louis had rolled his eyes but conceded.

The pair arrived at the Tomlinson house bundled up, but soon shucked the boots, coats, scarves, and hats as soon as they were ushered inside. The entire house smelled divine, of a bunch of different vegetables and meats roasting and desserts baking. Louis’ family were spread out in the kitchen and the living room. Everybody in turn came by to hug both Harry and Louis, wish Lou a happy birthday, pushing them towards a plate of cookies, whisking away their jackets. Louis had stayed close to Harry the whole night, rolling his eyes every time Harry winked at him when nobody was looking. 

Louis had even tried to get a kiss out of Harry outside the door to the bathroom, but that was interrupted when one of the girls raced past, holding a miniature sweater while chasing a cat down the hall. “Tsk, tsk, Tomlinson,” Harry had teased. “Setting such an example. Do you always kiss your boyfriends in the middle of the hall instead of making polite conversation with your hosts?”

“Shut up,” Louis had just whined in response. “It’s my birthday, I can do whatever I damn well please. That includes you,” he had smirked. Harry at that point gave in and leaned down to give Louis a lingering kiss before the two were called to dinner.

So morning of Christmas Eve had involved blowjobs and pancakes. The afternoon had granted the couple a change to snuggle and watch a traditional and lovely movie. The evening had made the boys relaxed and happy and comfortable, seeing Lou’s family (and Harry felt as secret joy that he was considered a part of the family by the Tomlinsons and that Louis was given the same treatment by his own family). So while those things all made the list of why Christmas Eve was the best day ever, it was when they returned home that made Harry grin at his feelings just remembering it.

They had stumbled against the front door, cushioned by the layers they wore, Harry pushing Louis against the plain apartment door. He had shoved the key into the lock and pulled Louis inside, undoing the buttons alternatively on Louis’ coat and his own. Louis had giggled into his mouth. “Wine makes you eager,” Louis said right before he licked Harry’s upper lip. 

Harry leaned back for a moment to yank off his jacket and send a glare at his boyfriend. “Like you’re not,” he scoffed.

Louis just grinned cheekily. “True.” He winked and grabbed Harry’s sweater to pull him to him. “Just kiss me.” 

Half an hour later the two stepped into the steaming shower, naked. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and felt Harry’s hands resting on his ass so that they were twined together in an embrace under the shower’s spray. “So did I get my present?” Louis asked, letting one arm unwrap itself from Harry’s body to reach for the shampoo. 

“Depends,” Harry smirked. “It was supposed to involve cake, but I didn’t feel like waiting. I could always try again, see if I could make up for my grievous error?” 

Louis rolled his eye and started to lather shampoo into Harry’s hair. “Rain check, babe. I kind of want to fall into bed now.”

Harry nodded, careful not to let soap drip into his eyes as his hands still rested on the curve of Louis’ backside. “I do have one thing for you, before bed,” he replied, serious now and the joking tone gone from his voice. 

“Mmkay,” Louis had just hummed. “Lean forward,” he instructed, rinsing the bubbles out of Harry’s hair. 

When they had both stepped out of the shower and dried each other off, Harry picked up Louis to set him on the dresser. “Wait here,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to Louis’ mouth before dashing back to the kitchen. He had hidden Louis’ present in the pan cabinet, figuring Louis wouldn’t inspect the kitchen to find his presents ahead of time. 

When he got back to the bedroom, Louis was still sitting on the dresser, ankles crossed and hands folded. “Here.” Harry said, offering the presents.

Louis reached out and took the packages, setting them on top of the dresser and picking up the first to open. He slipped his finger under the tape, ripping the paper away. “‘S soft,” he said as Harry bit his lip, watching. Louis let the paper fall to the floor and held up what was inside. “Oh, babe...

“D’you like it?” 

“Of course,” Louis said, beaming, holding the navy blue Ralph Lauren bathrobe up so he could rub his face against it. “It’s so nice, Harry, thanks. You really didn’t have to get me anything else,” he added, looking down at the small pile on the dresser.

“Yeah, I did. I know it’s been a few years but I still want to give you nice stuff, Lou.” Harry smiled, eyes soft and fond. 

Louis reached for the next present. The next revealed an envelope with tickets to a football match, another revealed Louis’ favorite (and horrendously expensive) cologne that he’d never buy for himself. The last present he opened made him gasp. Inside was a watch. It wasn’t flashy, but Harry reached out and stopped Louis from trying to put it on. “Wait, there’s an inscription.”   
-  
Happy 27th, Lou.  
I love you.  
Love, Haz  
-  
Harry was the first to speak. “I was really close to saying ‘Seven years, BooBear!’ but I wanted something simple... is it okay?” 

“It’s perfect, babe. You know what the only thing I still want for my birthday?” His tone was serious.

“Hm?”

“Kiss me again.” 

And so Harry did. 

But... that still wasn’t the best part of the evening.

“And one more thing, Haz?” 

“Yeah? Anything, “ Harry answered, never breaking eye contact with Louis. 

Louis took Harry’s hands from where they rested on the dresser, trapping Louis on it. “It’s your turn to wait here a sec, ‘kay?” Harry nodded as Louis slid off the dresser and dashed over to the closet. 

Louis stepped out of the closet and zipped back over to Harry, reaching for one of his hands. “So I was sort of waiting. Not because I wasn’t sure, but because I wanted tonight to be about having all day together because we weren’t working and just being relaxed, and partially because I knew if I said anything then I wouldn’t be able to keep it from my mother, and I sort of had this idea to wait ‘till New Years, but I wasn’t sure if we’d get drunk, and then I was thinking about your birthday, but...”   
Louis stopped himself. “Basically, can you give me one more thing for my birthday, Harry?” 

Harry blinked once, nodding slowly. “Yeah, Lou. What is it?” 

“Harry Styles, I love you. And the past six years have been better than I could imagine. But all I want now is to know what six more years will be like with you.”

Harry’s eyes widened a little bit and his grip tightened on Louis’ hand. 

“Lou...”

“Ssh, babe,” Louis let out a small, nervous chuckle. “But I don’t want just six more years. I want to know what we can be in sixteen years. I want to move out of this flat and find a place, with you. I want to keep on hearing about your horrible days at work and your fantastic days at work. I want everything with you. The works. So, um.” Louis felt himself stutter a bit. “Uh, lemme...” Still holding tightly onto Harry’s hand, he dropped down to the floor in front of the dresser. “Harry Styles.” He brought the hand that was tightly clutching the box from behind his back, saw Harry’s eyes track the motion, saw his wide eyes and his mouth hanging open just a little. “Harry Styles, love of my life, would you marry me?”

The next things that registered was Harry sinking down to the ground, level with Louis, his “Lou, God, yes, I love you, I love you so much, yes, yes,” and Harry tugging Louis towards him, leaning backwards as his mouth captured Louis’. Harry pulled back for just a moment. “God, Lou, now what am I supposed to do for your next birthday?” he said breathlessly.

Louis just laughed. “You already said yes, babe. I can’t even think now, and to be honest I don’t think I’ll give a damn what I get next year.” 

Harry tugged him back down for another kiss, then pushed him off again. “Should I get the watch re-engraved?” he asked. “I feel like just writing ‘I love you’ on might be a little understated for a present I gave you the night we got engaged. Oh my god, we’re engaged! You’re my fiance,” Harry said and poked Louis in the cheek. 

“Don’t you dare change the watch, Harry Styles. I’m sorry, by the way.” Louis added. Harry’s brows knit in confusion and Louis hurried to explain. “We’ve just rolled around the floor of our bedroom. I had planned music, you know. And champagne. And I was going to get flowers, Harry, I forgot the fucking flowers. And it was supposed to be after we got home from your mum’s,” he frowned apologetically.

Harry mirrored the frown. “Hey, I think tonight was perfect. I’m glad you got impatient, I’m glad you proposed. I am the happiest I’ve ever been right now, Louis Tomlinson. Don’t you dare think any of this was a mistake.”

Louis beamed. “I think I love you.” 

“Think?”

“I... my brain’s a little overworked, babe. Ask me tomorrow morning how I feel right now and I’ll tell you. For now, I’d rather show you. I think I could quite convince you that I know I love you.” 

Harry was quiet for a short moment. “I think I could agree to that,” he said, leaning towards Louis again.   
***

And so that was what had made Christmas Eve the best day of Harry’s life. On his list, he included the blowjobs and pancakes, the family dinner, the movie... the ring. Once Louis was done showing Harry just how appreciative he was for such a great birthday, he had reached over to grab the little velvet box from where it had (Harry cringed) sort of been abandoned in their haste to celebrate. (“You know,” Louis had murmured, “you’re only gonna be wearing one thing right now.” He kissed Harry’s stomach. “You’ve got no pants. You’ve got no shirt.” Louis laid down a kiss on each of Harry’s shoulders. “You have on absolutely nothing, my little nudist.” Harry tried to protest (“Neither do you!” was on the tip of his tongue) but Louis just kissed him instead. “How about you put one thing on...” And Louis had pulled the ring out of the box, slipping the band onto Harry’s finger before kissing his finger, his hand, his arm, up his body.) 

Now, as he sits on the edge of his bed with the journal in his lap, Harry glances down again to look, smiling unconsciously. He closes his notebook and slips it into the drawer before wandering out to the kitchen. Louis blinks up at Harry. He’s wearing just briefs and an apron, finger poised over a page in a recipe book. “Morning, fiancé,” he says with grin.

“Good morning, BooBear. Just wondering, what’s with the... baking?” Harry fumbles his hands around at the muffin tin and kitchenaid on the counter.

“I was going to make you muffins, oh fiancé of mine.” Louis holds up a bag of chocolate chips. “The best kind.”

“Should I go back to bed so you can bring one to me?” 

“No fair saying that when I’d want to go back with you. How about you just help me instead?” 

“I can do that,” Harry says, sliding past Louis, patting him on the ass before leaning over to look at the recipe book. “So you need the flour next, or the baking powder?” 

“Baking powder... Actually, fiancé, seeing as it’s December, it’s a little bit cold. I was trying to be domestic and all with this apron but I’m actually quite freezing... Would you mind if I put clothes on? ” Louis asks.

“Babe, I appreciate the view, but I don’t want my fiancé to be cold.” Harry smirks at his chance to use the title. “I think my fiancé should be warm and snuggly and so there’s something for me to take off later.”

Louis feels himself grinning stupidly as Harry winks at him, and in retribution wiggles his hips as he walks back to the bedroom to find something to wear.  
***

By the time that the muffins are finished baking, both boys are fully dressed and sitting at the little nook that separates the living room from the small kitchen. Louis rubs his finger over the ring on finger, taking a chance to talk while Harry has a mouthful of chocolate muffin. “So I mentioned yesterday...” he starts off slowly, measuring Harry’s response. Harry just takes another bite of muffin, waiting for Louis to continue. “So now that we’re engaged--” because damn if he’s not taking pleasure in that, one part of his mind has just been chanting “he said yes he said yes” for the last twelve hours-- “I was thinking that you know, for the uh, the future, we could maybe move.” He and Harry had discussed the future before-- kids, the neighborhood they’d choose to move in if ‘the time was right,’ and Louis thought that it’d be a perfect time to start looking for a place. Tentatively. He knew that the two would still have their nights out and want to go to bars and enjoy the city life, but maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to find a house, maybe one with a garage or an extra room. 

Harry puts his muffin back onto his plate. “Boo, I think it’s a great idea. I really can’t wait. How great would it be if we could find a place to move into right after we’re married? We could register for things for the new place, and then come back from the honeymoon and have a brand new home instead of coming back here,” he joked.

“Aw, babe, don’t make fun of this place. Sure, it’s tiny and the neighbors are loud and it sucks to carry groceries up the steps and park the car underneath the building, but think of the memories.”

“You’re right.” Harry waited a moment, quietly thinking back to everything the flat had seen. He and Louis had started dating when Harry was 18 and Louis 20. The first date, the first time Louis brought Harry back to his apartment to attempt to cook for him, the first time Harry spent the night, the first they hosted a get-together together, the first time Harry brought Louis home on break to meet his mum, their respective graduations and internships and jobs, their five year anniversary, Harry moving in with Louis, Louis proposing... The seven years felt so long and eventful but Harry felt like he’d just met Louis, like he’d never get tired of him. Sure, during the first few months of their relationship where they had both danced around the serious subjects of what they wanted in the future, it had seemed so easy. They had fun together. But as they both grew up (and Harry dared say calmed down a little bit after uni), their relationship had also grown up. Instead of doing just the fun things together, they started doing more serious things together. 

Harry could remember when he felt like he had a crush on Louis. He could remember when he lusted over Louis. He could remember when he liked him. But Harry can’t remember when he fell in love with Louis. He had only considered it when they were taking the train back to uni after Christmas hols spent with Louis’ family. Harry had spent two weeks with his own family, then spent the final two weeks with the Tomlinsons, and then he and Louis had planned on riding the train back together. On the train ride back Louis had dropped his head onto Harry’s shoulder. When Louis drooled on him and all it did was make Harry smile, Harry realized he was sunk. He couldn’t imagine ever losing Louis. He felt like he had reached a point when he no longer imagined his future without Lou, found himself struggling to cope with the concept that Louis would graduate in a few months and move on. 

That night when they got off the train and lugged their suitcases into Harry’s dorm and Louis’ apartment, Harry laid his feelings out. He had shed a few tears before Louis pulled him in close, rocking, reassuring him that they weren’t finished. They’d been dating for a year and a half, countless nights spent together, but Harry still remembers that one vividly.

He’s brought back to breakfast nook when Louis hooks his ankle around Harry’s under the stools. “You drifted off,” Louis murmured, still stroking Harry’s hand. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry quickly smiled. “Got caught up in the memories. God, I can’t believe you’re real,” he said. He knew he must look like a dork, his face with a huge smile at it directed at Louis, but didn’t care.

“Ditto, babe.”   
***

By the end of the day, when the pair finally arrive home, Harry drags Louis to the couch and pulls him on top of him, breathing in the smell of his boyfriend (no-- fiancé, he reminds himself). “God, that was exhausting,” he groans, lips brushing into Louis’ hair.

“Tell me about it,” Louis groans right back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands before pushing his fringe out of his eyes. “I think... Well, I was going to say it’s good I didn’t wait till today to ask, because I’d be too tired, but I think I wouldn’t be so tired if I hadn’t asked yesterday and prompted all the craziness today. Am I even making sense anymore?” 

Harry kisses the top of Louis’ ear. “Perfect sense, sweets.” 

Louis giggles, flipping himself over so he is laying on his stomach on top of Harry, and brings his hands up to brush both Harry’s cheeks. “Did you see the look on my mum’s face?” 

“I did. Did she know?” 

“Well, a week ago I mentioned that I was thinking about asking you. She might’ve thought I’d wait longer, but I think she didn’t expect me to because she knew I wouldn’t mention it if I wasn’t basically about to do it.”

Harry nods, letting his hands rub circles into Louis’ back. The pair had gone to Harry’s mum’s for Christmas dinner, but before arriving they had stopped at the Tomlinson’s to share the news, figuring that both their families should find out the same day. It had been in good sentiment, but it had basically meant nine hours of being surrounded by bustling people and weepy mothers and excited girls offering advice. Harry loved his family and Louis’, but all he had wanted to do was come back and just be with Louis. 

“Feels good, babe,” Louis says on a soft exhale as he turns his cheek to press it into Harry’s chest and nestle himself under Harry’s chin. “You’re gonna make me pass out,” he warns.

“I don’t mind,” Harry just whispers quietly. 

The two lay on the couch together, and twenty minutes later when Louis was asleep, Harry carried him back to bed.  
***

December 26th, two days after the proposal, is the first day Harry felt like he really got to soak it in. He is getting married. To the man who knew him better than anyone, had seen him at his worst and best, would always be there to see the worsts and bests that would come down the road. The sweetest man who knew just how to cheer Harry up. The sexy man who knew the small details of how to make Harry happy that just came from plenty of practice and a trust built between each other. The man who had decided that he’d spend forever with Harry. The man that Harry had chosen right back. 

It’s the first day that they aren’t obligated to leave the house or exchange presents or get dressed or see other people, and they take full advantage of that by staying snug in their sleepwear all day. 

Harry’s at the stove at tea time, making sure to be delectable grilled cheeses (which he honestly preferred to the holiday food leftovers) while he and Lou discuss honeymoon options.

“Tropical.”

“Too many sweat stains in pictures.”

“Who said we’d have to leave the beachfront cabana?”

“Lou, I plan on remembering this for my entire life. As appealing as it sounds, I would like to actually leave the hotel room of the beautiful city of our choosing.”

“Or the bed and breakfast in the country.” 

“Or a city, where we could go to plays or museums or fancy candle-lit dinners.”

“Or somewhere with lots of privacy.”

“Or somewhere with tons of people that we could meet.”

Louis hummed. “Babe, I don’t even know how we’re gonna decide. I just want you to be happy, you know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know. But you’re saying you really wouldn’t mind then what kind of wedding we have?”

“Well as long as it doesn’t cost me a million bucks and as long as I don’t get so drunk I can’t remember it, I don’t really mind. I can imagine two hundred different weddings for us and they’re all beautiful and fantastic because of a certain man that's at the altar with me. Or the flower arch. We could have an outdoors wedding. 

But basically, I only care that you’re gonna show up.”

Harry turns to face Louis, plastic spatula-flip thing in hand. “Well, if you don’t mind, I can do this.”

“You mean the wedding? You’re gonna plan our whole wedding?” Louis can’t keep a little disbelief from his voice.

“Can’t be that hard. I’ve got a bunch of ideas. I’ve been planning this in my head for a little while now.” 

Louis just smirks up at Harry. “Plenty of people use planners, Harry. Not to mention you saying you’ll take this on means you’re gonna have to face both of our mums and sisters who will all want to help in some way,” he adds. 

Harry just shrugs and flips the sandwiches. “I’ve got a vision, Lou, and this wedding is gonna be so damn perfect you’ll want to shag me in the limo after. If you don’t feel that way I’ll have failed,” he switches from serious to teasing easily. Louis rolls his eyes and slaps Harry on the ass before reaching up to grab plates for their meal.  
***

A week later, Harry and Louis are each in bed. They’ve got a “no laptops in bed” rule, where they can only have a computer if they’re watching something together. They never liked it how some people bring work to bed, or ignore the person they were sharing the bed with to get on a social networking site. Tonight, the laptop is in Louis’ lap while Harry curls around him, both of them watching the pilot of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. Louis honestly has no idea how this happens. He thinks it’s because Harry might’ve suggested it. It has nothing to do with the fact that Patrick Dempsey is a fine piece of ass. (It has everything to do with it. Also, Shonda Rhimes is a genius. Enough said.)

The episode is just ending and Harry shuts the laptop. “I don’t want to watch the entire first season in a week,” he tries, seeing Louis’ offended look. 

“You’re gonna have to make me feel better now, Haz.” Louis hints, hopeful. 

Harry rolls his eyes but concedes, leans in to Louis and kisses him softly before he pulls on Louis’ bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. It’s long enough to make Louis’ eyes flutter shut and part his mouth open before Harry leans back. 

When Harry doesn’t immediately move back in for another kiss, Louis opens his eyes. “Tease.” 

“No, compromise.”

Louis frowns. “What are we arguing about?” 

Harry laughs, strokes Louis’ lips with the tip of his finger. “I want to pick a date. Y’know, so I can start getting this wedding ball rolling.”

Louis opens his eyes wide. “Ball?” 

“Expression, love. Just... how does June 22 sound?”

“Really, Harold? A June wedding? I know for a fact you want an August wedding because that one time when you drank too much champagne, the third Valentine’s, you said so.” 

There’s a pause where Harry just stares at Louis. Then he’s leaning in, molding his body over Louis’, hearing a soft clunk as the laptop falls off the bed and onto a pile of clothes. Louis makes a small noise but reaches his hands up to tangle in Harry’s hair, shirt. Harry’s got his hands pressed against Louis’ chest and cupping his face, and he’s sucking on Louis’ lip again. A high pitched noise leaves one of them, and Louis is rolling the both of them over so that he’s straddling Harry, still connected along the whole length of their bodies. Louis breaks away from the deep and frantic kiss to take a wild gasp of air, and he’s just about to lean back in again, hand already reaching below him to hold Harry’s hips when he catches what Harry’s just said. “You remembered.”

“Remembered what?” He sounds breathless. They both do.

“Valentine’s. You remembered something I said four years ago that I don’t even remember telling you. And then I remember why I love you so much.” 

Louis soaks in the fondness in Harry’s voice, feels it well up in his own heart so that he can actually feel his extremities tingling. Honest to God, his fingers actually feel a little numb and buzzy right now. “‘Course I remember,” is all he says, soft, and bends down again as Harry leans up an inch to meet his kiss.  
***

So Harry has a date soon and he’s scanning venues one night in bed. He knows what he wants. He can see the lantern lights glowing, the perfect creamy tablecloths, romantically red candles on his and Louis’ table, the deep navy ones picked out for the other tables. He can see the flowers, he already knows the music he wants. He only needs the perfect venue, needs to figure out the guest list, needs to decide if he and Louis should have a “bridal party.” Plus, he doesn’t want to focus too much on the reception. (Well, the reception has to be perfect, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want the beautiful ceremony too.)

He’s browsing best wedding locations in the UK when Louis comes to bed. He’s wearing boxers and a plain white tee, glasses perched on his nose and a recent bestseller in his hand. He’s barefoot as usual and he casually climbs into bed and tucks himself under the bedsheets, sneaking a peek at the laptop screen. “Say Yes To The Dress” is on in one tab, a Marie Claire article in another. Harry ruffles a hand through Louis’ hair without looking away from the screen, pulling his earbuds out at the same time. 

“What’re you working on, babe?” Louis tries to see the article but Harry’s switched over to the Netflix tab, where the episode is paused on a crying bride clutching two veils. 

“Wedding stuff.” 

“Can I help?” 

“Babe, I’m proud of us for being a couple who knows their strengths. And while you are a gay man with a lovely sense of style and I love you more than everything in the world, part of the reason I love you is for letting me plan my dream wedding.”

“I take that to mean you don’t need my expert help?”

“Mm, you have other skills that you’re an expert at. Feel free to put those skills to use... just gimme twenty minutes, ‘kay?” 

Louis laughs into the crook of Harry’s elbow, then scooches back to lean against the headboard and his own pillow to pull out the book. “Got it. Love you, Haz.”

“Love you more, Boo.”  
*** 

The next months fly by and before he knows it, Louis is being taken by Harry to meet their caterer and it’s May. Harry spends most of the twenty minute walk to the caterer’s explaining their menu. “I wanted something classy and elegant enough for a wedding but I wanted comfort foods too. So we’re sampling Fettuccine Primavera, and some sort of Rosemary Chicken, and a bunch of little mini quiches for appetizers. Then we get to try desserts. There’s gonna be chocolate lava, and lemon poppyseed, and red velvet, and chocolate sourcream, Lou... it’s gonna be amazing.” 

Lou just smiles at his fiancé and swings their hands together as they walk. He likes listening to Harry’s ideas for the wedding and the reception. He can’t say he knows exactly what’s going on (he just doesn’t understand what an ivy garland with shasta daisies is or why Harry seems insistent that the florist he initially liked is psychotic for suggesting it) but he gets to be there for the important bits (like food) and all that matters is that this day is going to be absolutely amazing for the two of them. It’s really the marriage that matters-- the fact that they’ve chosen each other to spend their lives with, meaning that he and Harry will have each other when they’re in their thirties and (oh God) their forties, fifties, sixties, and Louis begins to feel a bit melty inside as he imagines the anniversary vacations they’ll take and the adventures they’ll have raising a baby (or two or three or... well, they’ve decided to start with one and take it from there.).

He tunes back in as Harry is describing the color of the napkins. “...Light blue, with a darker trim to match the candles.” Louis makes an appreciative noise to show that he’s listening, then follows Harry towards the building marked “Gilded Events Catering.”

He gets to sample all the things Harry’s initially picked out. He thinks they all taste fantastic, and Harry, the true cook, is carefully asking which dishes have thyme, and would it be possible to have parsley in this one? He figures it’s nice that Harry can notice all the details and that he cares so much.  
***

A few weeks later, Louis is just arriving home from work. He’s got a fresh bouquet of these pink and red flowers with varying sizes of blooms in one hand, a briefcase in the other. He pushes open the apartment door and instantly hears Harry’s irritated voice. “What do you mean, the candelabras only hold six candles and not eight? I was told they’d have the chandelier types with symmetry, I don’t want it to seem like I have a bunch of menorahs for centerpieces! I don’t want just a line of candles, I picked those candelabras specifically to match the centerpieces my florist designed so that they accent each other!” A pause, and by now Louis has set the flowers on the breakfast nook’s counter and has set his briefcase down. “Well, if you change the candles, then I’m going to have to have my florist completely redesign everything! My wedding is in two months, are you crazy?! Plus, if I change the candles, then the matching napkins need to be changed and then so do the tablecloths and oh my God I can’t just change my entire reception because you messed up the candles!” Harry’s voice has reached an alarming pitch and his words, usually seeming carefully considered one at a time, are coming out faster and faster.

Louis comes up behind Harry, opening his arms to encircle his fiancé in a hug, pressing himself to Harry’s back. Harry flinches at first before relaxing, easing into Louis’ hold. “Fix it please, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He sounds forlorn, and his eyes when he turns around to face Louis are damp. 

Louis’ hand comes up to brush through Harry’s curls, slide down his back. “Haz, baby, what happened?” 

Harry isn’t crying yet but his usual cheerfulness has been replaced by a disappointed look. “The lady called and said the the candelabras I picked out months ago aren’t available anymore, and she didn’t know why, and she wants me to pick new ones, but the only ones she has are these stupid ugly ones and if I pick them our whole wedding will look stupid and I don’t want to remember our wedding looking stupid!” 

“I’m sure they won’t look that bad,” Louis tries to reason. “And I’m sure that we can go online and find other candelabras from someone else, someone who’ll have exactly what you’re looking for. ‘Kay?” He meets Harry’s eyes, tries to look reassuring and confident. 

Harry nods, quickly bends down and draws Louis to him for a long kiss. When he says “thanks” quietly, his tongue brushes against Louis’ mouth.

“No worries, babe.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No need to be, sweets.” 

That was one roadblock that Louis managed to calm Harry down about, but he worries about others. The laptop is becoming an ever present object in bed, less nights end with sex and/or a cuddle in favor of Harry and Louis watching an episode of Grey’s or Say Yes To The Dress and then Louis falling asleep as Harry searches through his eleven customary wedding blogs that he examines each night as well as a few wedding related boards on Pinterest.

Harry’s still sweet to Louis and reminds him all the time how grateful he is that Louis is giving him complete control over this wedding, and Louis would be happy   
except for the fact that he worries Harry’s becoming a bit of a Bridezilla. He catches Harry having disgruntled phone conversation a few more times and Louis begins to wonder if the small details even matter. Where was the Harry that just wanted to marry Louis? Nowadays, Harry wants to marry Louis but with the conditions that the wedding color scheme is a deep navy blue and cream with subtle hints of dark red rose, that baby’s breath is present in the arrangements but not the boutonnieres, that the cake has three layers and that the icing is a perfect cream that matches the tablecloth and will be garnished with red roses and pearl candies.   
***

It all comes to a head when Harry and Louis meet with the baker, just a week before the wedding. They’re having a tasting with a few of their best friends, just to make sure Harry’s made the right decisions about the cake. They’ve been having a busier and more stressful week than normal. 

For one, they just made an offer on a house that couldn’t be more perfect. It’s the right size and in the right place and it doesn’t need any major repairs, just some cosmetic work. Harry proclaims that he knows exactly what it’ll look like when he’s done with it. 

Secondly, they were just downtown, registering for gifts. According to Harry this should’ve been done a few weeks ago, but Louis is sure nobody really minds that much. Their registry isn’t that big anyway-- they have most of the kitchen appliances they need, so the things that get added are mainly decorative things they see or the occasional plate or silverware set they see that they wouldn’t have bought in college but now as actual adults in a proper relationship and owning a home, they should have. 

When they approach the bakery, Niall and Liam are walking up towards it from the opposite direction. They lift their hands in greeting and they all exchange the one armed hugs they expect from each other before entering the shop. 

Louis can feel his mood lifting just as the scents start to rise around him... melting chocolate, orange peel, vanilla... it all smells so good and Louis knows for a fact   
that Harry’s chosen the right baker. Nobody who is a terrible baker could make such delicious smells exist, Louis is sure of it.

A short but perky blonde who apparantly knows Harry welcomes them in by name. “Harry, great to see you! These are the friends and the fiancé, I assume? You said five total?”

“Hi, Isabella, it’ll be five. And yes, may I introduce Niall and Liam and this,” he says with a hand on the small of Louis’ back, “is my-” he takes a little pause, lifts his chin in the air like he’s bragging- “is my Louis.” 

“Charmed,” Isabella says, sticking a hand out to shake with the three of them in turn, reserving a hug for Harry. 

The introductions are interrupted as the fifth member of their party comes into the bakery, not looking hurried in the slightest. “Zayn,” Harry says shortly to Isabella, who nods like she already knows exactly who he is. 

“Alright, Harry, I’ve got something whipped up for you, you can follow me to the back,” Isabella instructs as she starts walking towards inconspicuous double doors that must lead to a kitchen from the back wall of the shop. “Now, with your colors and flowers and flavor preferences, we settled for a Tahitian vanilla cheesecake with raspberry swirls throughout and covered in a white chocolate raspberry frosting and drizzle, both to be pleasing in flavor and a perfect match to the tablecloths and the roses that will be on the cake,” she explains. It’s probably more for Louis’ benefit than for Harry’s, because Louis is sure that Harry already knows exactly what this   
cake is going to be like.

Isabella has made a single layer of the cake, as a sampler. At the actual wedding there will be three, per Harry’s request, but for the five of them, there is a simple round layer already frosted and drizzled. Isabella has already taken the opportunity to garnish the cake with two fresh rose blooms. It looks fantastic in Louis’ unexpert opinion. He’s just voicing this to Isabella when Harry cuts in. “I thought we said the white chocolate frosting would be to reflect the colors of the tablecloths?” he says, sounding unsure. 

“We did, hon.” Isabelle looks up at Harry, looking a little bit nervous with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, eagerly waiting for her clients’ reviews. “Why don’t I cut everyone a piece, let you taste it,” she suggests, smoothly slicing the small cake into six pieces and plating them, passing around a plate to each. 

Louis eagerly takes a forkful and shoves it in his mouth. It’s mouthwatering and so sweet but plain at the same time. It’s not sugary, and the raspberry filling makes his mouth pucker a little bit, in the best way. The graham cracker crumb bottom makes for a perfect crunchy factor to balance with the uber rich and thick, creamy texture of the cheesecake. “Divine,” Louis declares. He can hear the others making similar noises of contentment and approval, but Harry’s silent.

“It’s really good Isabella, it really is,” Harry says. “But it’s too pale? Are you sure you couldn’t make this more of a candlelit cream rather than this... whiter cream? I was picturing something a little more yellow, to go with the tablecloths. 

Isabella looked from Harry to Louis. “But, Harry, we matched your tablecloths to all the frostings I had and this and the coconut were the only two that were satisfactory matches and this, I think we can agree, tastes superbly better than the coconut would,” she tries. 

Harry just shakes his head, sets his fork down onto his plate so he can dig something out of his jeans. He pulls out a fabric swatch and Louis sees Isabella’s eyes widen a little. “This is the color of the baby roses that will go with the bigger red roses in the boutonnieres. This is also the color of the tablecloths and the candles that’ll be lit during the ceremony,” he continues. “This is not the color that’s on the cake.” Isabella now is eyeing the swatch warily. 

“Honestly Harry, it’s not like you’re gonna be in a dress and the cake has to match it perfectly, Haz,” comes Zayn’s voice. “It’s just a boutonniere, and I think it’s fine if the cake is a little lighter than the tablecloth. It’ll make the cake stand out, right?” He sounds practical, and Isabella is nodding along with Zayn, probably eager for Harry to accept the beautiful cake without more fuss. 

Harry’s nodding too, but he’s setting his plate down on the stainless steel work counter of the kitchen, then backing out through the double doors. “Yeah, I get it, nobody has to care about the things I want because I won’t be wearing the dress, I won’t be the bride, my opinion just doesn’t count if I’m only a groom,” he says, a frantic edge in his voice. He turns on the heel of his ridiculous boots and bolts out of the kitchen and through the shop doors. 

There is a moment of dumbfounded shock, where most everybody is shocked at Harry’s behavior and then start to look at Louis. Louis doesn’t know exactly what is happening, but he saw Harry’s jealous look yesterday while they watched Meredith try on wedding dresses for Izzie and again when they watched an episode of SYTTD: Atlanta. He has the tiniest idea of what might be going on here. 

“Isabella, the cake was fantastic. Don’t change a thing. If you could box up our portions, that’d be great, and Liam can drop them off at our place. The fridge, Liam?” Louis looks up to make sure Liam was paying attention. He gets an affirmative nod, so he pulls out his phone. “Alright, I’ll see you lot later; Isabella, I’m sorry; I’m gonna go get Harry,” Louis says quickly, already moving out of the kitchen and throwing up one hand in a sort of half-wave gesture.  
***

Harry picks up on the fifth ring. “‘Lo?”

Relief fills Louis that Harry picked up. “Hi, baby, it’s me.”

“Lou...”

“It’s okay, really, Haz. Just tell me where you are?”

“...The boutique by Andy’s.”

“On my way, babe.”

When Louis gets to the place Harry described, a saleswoman with an odd expression on her face welcomes him inside. “Are you... Louis Tomlinson?” she asks politely. 

Louis just nods. “He’s back here,” she says and tips her head toward the back of the store before wheeling around for Louis to follow her.

The woman is nice, maybe in her forties, and seems like she doesn’t know what to do but is slightly amused. She pulls back a curtain and ushers Louis behind it. “Take as long you need. Um, good luck? I hope you have a lovely wedding, Harry was telling me about it.” And with that, she scoots away.

Louis ducks behind the curtain and sees Harry sitting on a cushioned bench. He long legs are propped out in front of him and Louis can see the tips of his worn out boots from underneath a pristinely white gown. If Louis recalls correctly, what Harry is wearing is referred to as a mermaid gown. It hasn’t got sleeves and the neckline forms a small “v,” showing off his tattoos. White fabric, fuck if Louis knows or cares what kind, is swathed and wrapped tightly around Harry’s middle before flaring out in a comedic fashion because of the way he sits. Harry’s sitting on the bench leaning against the wall, and he’s clutching the dress in both hands at his sides. He is the utter picture of defeat.

“Baby.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Louis.

“Haz.” Nothing. So Louis strides forward, pulls the fabric from Harry’s hands, and uses his hands to pull Harry up and into his arms. Harry lets himself be hugged by Lou, sniffling. He continues to lean on him while Louis fumbles with the clips that Harry has to fasten the dress closed, and he thinks he’s managed to get the important ones enough to tug the dress down. The dress falls with a swoosh noise to the ground, and Harry quietly steps out of it. He’s wearing nothing except a necklace that was a gift long ago, a pair of black briefs (they honestly might belong to Louis. It doesn’t really matter that they exchange things anymore, but the sight brings Louis back to six months ago when he wore them in the kitchen in just an apron, trying to bake for Harry.), his strange old boots, and the band on his finger.   
Louis holds Harry’s shirt up for him to pull on and button, sees where Harry must’ve flung off his pants (“He got them over his boots?” is a thought in Louis’ mind for just a moment before deciding that Harry must’ve put the boots back on, there is no way he got those pants off with shoes on. It just makes him wearing the boots with the dress funnier though.). 

Harry gets dressed quietly while Louis tries to get the dress situated on it’s padded hanger. When he’s wearing all his own clothes again, he sinks down onto the cushioned bench. Louis sits next to him. The bench is surprisingly comfy. 

“I think...” Harry starts slowly, “The last six months have really messed me up.” 

Louis is quick to protest. “You’re not messed up, darling, I adore you and how much you want this to be perfect for us. I don’t think you’re messed up. I think you might’ve gotten a little stressed, though.” He doesn’t want to make Harry feel bad. 

Harry just sighs, offers Louis the tiniest smile. “It began so nicely, I could imagine us getting married in some old church or castle banquet hall, and then having the best reception, and I’d picked out the flowers and our cake is so delicious,” he starts to ramble. “But as soon as I focused on these things I wanted I think I kept needing it to be perfect and nothing was working out. The flowers I wanted would already have bloomed by August, the candelabras were stolen or broken or something so I couldn’t rent them, the bloody napkins couldn’t be embroidered, the cake which was promised to me to be perfect was too light, and everybody kept saying I wasn’t a bride. Because brides get what they want. I just wanna be a bride and, uh, the dress happened.” Harry stops for a moment, collecting himself. “I think that I need to just marry you. Right now. We should call a judge. I wanna marry you Lou, right now, no fuss.”

“Harry.” Louis is all calm patience now, knowing that Harry is actually okay because he can articulate thoughts. “I’m not going to marry you right now.” 

Harry makes a whimpering noise and Louis sees a tear slip down Harry’s face like he can’t help it and backtracks. Maybe Harry isn’t one hundred percent okay just yet. “No, no, no, lovely, I’m saying I don’t want to marry you in the back space of a wedding boutique. Remember? We agreed we wanted our mums and you know that Liam and Zayn and Niall would murder us if they weren’t there, and I want cake and music and all that because I know you did such a good job planning it for us, baby. Remember? You picked whatever you wanted? You said you were gonna surprise me August third with best damn wedding in the world and I still think it’ll be that, sweets.” Louis leans in, brushes his nose against Harry’s cheek and runs his fingers through his fiancé’s hair. 

“You really think?” Harry’s voice is muffled from being pressed against Louis’ temple. 

“Yeah, babe. I really think. And you know what else?”

“Hmm?” 

“I think that you’re gonna be hot as fuck up there, not wearing a dress. I know you probably have the best tuxes out there picked out for us, because you reminded me of my fitting just yesterday.” He sees that Harry’s starting to smile bigger now so continues. “And you know what really isn’t fair? The fact that you can see me put mine on, but I have no idea what you’re wearing,” he adds. “But I know you’re gonna be smashin’, love. You don’t need some white dress that a million brides are gonna pick out. You only need to be there, be mine, to outshine everyone else.” 

This finally seems to sink into Harry’s mind, and he bends down to kiss Louis sweetly. “I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

“Liar.”

“You’re the liar.”

“Shut up and kiss me?”

“Kay.”  
***

The next day Harry and Louis laugh about it, kidding around that Karen (the saleswoman at the boutique that Harry is now on a first-name basis with) should be invited to the wedding. Harry stops stressing so much about everything. Instead, he follows the schedule his overproductive mind made one day a while ago and gets everything sorted with time to spare. The outfits, music, flowers, catering, photography, venues, candles and tablecloths and napkins, and the cake are all sorted out easily once Harry stops worrying that Louis will hate something if he doesn’t get it done perfectly right. He and Louis had decided to go to Scotland on their honeymoon, traveling around to see the bigger cities with some rented cottages here and there. They’ll rent a car for the duration of the trip and Louis is eager for the adventure. Louis also can’t wait for the second honeymoon they’d planned. He and Harry had originally chosen Australia as a destination before realizing the seasons were switched and it’d be winter in August. So instead they planned that they’d spend the two weeks after Christmas down under so that they’d have a perfect balance (hopefully) of relaxing beaches and boats, but the city life if they feel up to it. 

On the second, both lads book into a spa and relax, melting all the stress away. That night, they lie in bed without any distractions. Louis began reinforcing the laptop rule again, so that Harry couldn’t obsess over details before bed and instead would snuggle or make out with Harry instead. This night, Harry’s sprawled out, his long legs nearing the end of the bed. Louis is laying diagonally across the bed so that he’s got one knee hooked over Harry’s thigh and his head on Harry’s chest. He’s never felt more relaxed as Harry lazily plays with his hair. It’s sort of felt like a while that Harry has focused fully on him and not an angry email to a caterer or photographer. The room’s dark and neither one has spoken for a few minutes. 

This is normally when they’d both drift off, but Louis’ almost sleep is interrupted by Harry. “I love you so much. I love you because you got nervous to introduce me to your mum, because now you trust me with the people you love the most, because you want to give me everything you can. I love you because you don’t know the difference between blonde ash and light peach, and that neither were even options I’d consider for our fucking tablecloths. I want you to know that as much as it may have seemed like it, I honestly only care about you, Louis Tomlinson. I don’t care how many or what kind or what color anything turns out to be at the wedding tomorrow. I’ll tell you now that I won’t see a single thing other than the way you look at me tomorrow. I know that you won’t be looking at the flowers, you’ll be looking at my eyes. I know you won’t notice the colors of the candles or the shapes of the candelabras because you’ll be watching me wear your ring. I know you’ll love the cake and dinner you let me pick, but that you’ll love the champagne I picked best because you’ll just want to toast me, and us, and wait for people to clink their glasses so we have to kiss. You make me feel so loved that I can’t even explain it and I think I’d die if you didn’t. So, Louis Tomlinson, that is why I’m saying that I’ll marry you. I understand I’m basically seven months late with this proper acceptance, but I think your proposal deserves that kind of response, instead of me just saying yes.”

Louis has gone perfectly still, feeling Harry’s chest radiate heat and the vibrations of his words into Louis. He slides up to rest his face next to Harry’s. “Kiss me.”  
And so Harry does. They lie like that, turned towards each other, arms and legs hooked and tangled with each other. They wake up like that and don’t move, trading whispers back and forth. They have a while to just spend with each other, their final moments as just Harry and Louis, boyfriends in a flat. In hours they’ll walk down a stone floored church, past the pews with their near and dear, floating by the cream roses and red roses scattered all over the place, the dark blue ribbon tucked in subtly. They’ll stand together and recite vows to each other, make lifelong promises. They’ll make each other the happiest people in the room. They’ll slip ring onto each other’s fingers, they’ll kiss, there will be music swelling and photos, and then a reception with perfectly lovely cream and navy candles in candelabras that are adorned with roses and set upon creamy tablecloths with place settings that are cream with navy embroidery. The food will be served, the cake will be cut, there will be dancing and the music will be perfect. Harry chose “Bring Me The Night” to dance to, because while he and Louis never needed to overcome distance, he feels like their entire lives they’ve just been getting closer and closer and closer and he’s grateful that he’ll never need to wish Louis was next to him, because he’ll have forever to be next to him now. 

They’ll go to Scotland and come home-- to their first home as a married couple-- and settle in. Then they can keep going. Harry can’t wait. He knows it’ll all be worth it. And he’s glad that the night before he got to tell Louis everything he’d put in a vow but wanted to keep between the two of them. Later, he’ll get the chance to tell everyone how much he loves Louis in simpler words. And then later, he’ll get to show him with caresses and kisses and closeness. And after that, well, he has forever to plan it out. Today, he doesn’t need lists.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking I could do something else in this verse but I'm not really sure. Just thinking about it. If you have an idea, let me know :) 
> 
> *Also (I finished this and only read through it once, it's 3:30 am. If there is a horrendous mistake, tell me so I can fix it) (and the formatting is weird because I wrote this as a google doc so I had to fix all the paragraphs and I'm afraid I might've missed some? And a few things that had italics don't anymore. So. If that really bothers you... I'm sorry but there isn't much I can do :/ )


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